Against All Odds
by Distant Storm
Summary: Sequel to By Their Saving Grace. Angel's alive, but no one knows except for Mr. Dickenson. No one else likes her new image, and no one will tell them the truth about her identity. Why? Five years of remission mean you're cured, of course.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Beyblade. I do own my OC. Great, isn't it?

Against All Odds

Kai threw himself back against the bed. He knew he should move on, but he really didn't want to, to be honest with himself. Outside, the cherry blossoms added a tint of pink to everything, and life seemed to be reviving to welcome the warm weather of spring in Bakunen.

A lot had changed in six years. He sighed. When it came down to facts, he really didn't know Angel that well, if she had kept such a secret from him. Especially when he thought she was an enemy, and she had ended up saving them all in the end, even at the cost of her own life. That was love, an emotion Kai had never really been exposed to; The only exception was the love he recieved from Mina.

Both she and Tala were inseperable. Tyson and Hilary weren't exactly 'together,' despite the fact that they displayed all the symptoms of a couple. The other guys dated people off and on, but none of them were commited for life just yet.

"Dude," Tyson said, sticking his head in the door, "Let's go. Stop daydreaming!"

The slate and navy haired ex-captain looked up into the eyes of the ex-champion. Their reign of champions ended four years ago, when Mr. Dickenson had exclaimed that they were talented enough to know that they could be champions for the rest of their lives. The CEO of the B.B.A. helped them decide to retire- unofficially, if they were in the mood, they'd show up for a tournament, and were always allowed a crack at the champions of tournaments, especially the world championships.

The Blitzkrieg Boys had dropped the circuit as well, knowing that it was pointless to come in first when they wouldn't have won if the B.B.A.'s star team had entered. They had matured, all coming into conversations if the mood struck them.

Together, their group was still _The Rising_, save one leader. Kai had naturally filled that position. In the back of his mind, this leader registered that Tyson was talking to him.

"Gomen," Kai said, sitting up, blinking, and pushing himself up off the bed. "Where are we going?" He asked. In the past few years, he had also matured, donning his usual Kai-ness with a flare of kindness- at least to his team mates and friends.

Tyson ran a hand through his navy hair, before placing his trademark cap upon his head. "We're going to the park. Remember? Training?"

Oh yes, it must have slipped his mind. He walked to the doorway, when his friend grabbed the article in his hand, careful not to rip it.

"If she left a note telling us to live," Tyson said quietly, meeting Kai's amethyst eyes with chocolate ones of his own, "Why do I always seem to find you dwelling on that note? You've got to move on. It's what she'd want."

Kai looked at Tyson. He'd grown up too, surprisingly. They were closer than friends, more like brothers. Kai had his own room in the Granger Dojo, which he typically used, unless he felt a need to go to Russia for a little while. He glanced at the paper in his hands, written in graceful cursive, initialed at the bottom with a trademark A.A., and a PS, telling them that she loved them all.

She had known it was her time, and Kai still couldn't fathom the type of person who had the strength to accept it, much less try only to help others through it.

Tyson gently pryed the note out of Kai's hand, setting it beside the Russian's bed, where a picture of Angel, Mina, and Tala resided, the three smiling victoriously, from seven years ago. This was all before they had met up with Kai again. Kai had learned that she was in remission at this time. She looked awfully happy to be where she was.

It seemed like he was obsessed with her, from this point of view, but honestly, he wasn't. It was uncommon to have Kai caught with that note in his hands, much less to catch him this lost in his thoughts. Tyson hadn't seen it happen in probably a few months. He had been told that grief had stages, and they took a long time to get through. Kai was doing pretty well, for being Kai, he thought.

"C'mon," Tyson said, passing Kai and leading him out of the room. "We're going to be late... again."

"You don't need any help to get there," Kai said snidely, a smirk set on his features. "Hilary won't kill me, I'm not you."

The blunette laughed. "That's because you're a stoic son of a bitch," He said, as Kai grabbed the keys to his rediculously fast black ferari, with _Dranzer_ painted in sleek, red, racy letters across the side, more toward the back.

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Green met blue. "So I'm alright?"

There was a nod. The man facing her gave her a thumbs up, and she looked around the white room. "We'll see you in six months." He smiled at her, checking his clipboard, holding her chart. "And to think, when you showed up here six years ago, we weren't even sure you were going to live, much less make it through the chemo."

She smiled in relief. "Yeah, I didn't think I'd make it through it," She said quietly. "But I'm not there yet."

"So serious?" The presence of a woman in her early thirties in the doorway caused the girl on the counter to squeal. "I thought you'd be happy! You're almost there!"

"Cher!" She jumped off the counter and hugged the woman fiercely. "You look stellar!"

The woman laughed, straightening her scrub clothes. Cher held the twenty-three year old out at arms' length. "You're the one looking great, Angel. You've certainly come a long way."

The doctor, the man who she was just speaking to, chuckled behind the duo. "She has, hasn't she?"

After other pleasantries, hugs, and encouragement, the young woman found herself on the brisk streets of Belgium. She gazed at her reflection as she passed down one of the most busy streets Brussels had to offer. She looked beautiful, she decided, though that was rather prideful. Her bright jade eyes glimmered with a renewed intensity, she had grown- although it was at eighteen that she had gone through her final spurt, leaving her at five-foot-eight-inches tall.

Her hair had grown back the same, but different. It had retained the black color, minus the artificial cherry-red streaks. She personally preferred the natural look, as it gave her a little more bounce in her step, but was edgy to say the least.

As she passed the largest building in the city, she seriously thought about entering it. The last time she had rushed into things though, she ended up going around in circles. Her heart persisted in telling her mind that this time would be different, and that she had to try.

Eventually, her heart won over her head, and she pushed the door open to the B.B.A. headquarters, noting a poster on the wall advertising a tournament. She approached the secretary, a delicate smile upon her pale features. "May I help you, miss?" The secretary asked her, smiling back.

Angel nodded gracefully. "I would like to enter the tournament." She was immediately handed a form, a clipboard, and a pen. The secretary pointed her a place to sit down and relax, while filling out the form. She debated for a moment about how to go about this, as the top sheet of the form stated that all beybladers were to have a conference with the chairman privately before their application was approved. Smirking, she realized that was to prevent the things that had happened to them- quite an influence, she decided she had held on them. That was a good thing.

She had been keeping tabs. It was surprising, but the tightening of security definitely helped out the lock-out of massive evil figures. Not that there were too many big ones, with Voltaire locked up and Boris dead. Her mind reminded her just how that had happened, but, she was reminded by the phoenix dwelling on the beyblade in her pocket, that it was merely self defense. The fact that she had made it to Brussels in the first place shocked her, but the doctors from the physility she had went to when she was younger had come to her this time, taking her back with them.

Did she mention how much that cost her? Way too much, but it had ended up paid, by a bank account of money received by each child tormented by the Abbey.

When she finished, she brought the application back up, only to watch the secretary read over her fluid, elegant cursive with curious eyes. The woman looked up at her and hit a button on the telephone next to her.

"Marc, is Mr. Dickenson free at the moment?" Angel tensed up. She was thinking that she'd receive a phone call in a week, when she had gathered her thoughts and decided whether or not she was really going to go through with it.

There was a simple 'yes' given in response, to which Angel visibly trembled. "You don't happen to know if the Rising is here right now, do you?"

The secretary chuckled. "They're at home in Japan," She said sweetly. "It's still the off season." Angel nodded, dismissing the possibility of running into anyone, and waited for the woman to continue. "You can go upstairs, to the twenty-seventh floor, and wait outside Mr. Dickenson's room. He's a very sweet man. There's no reason to be nervous."

Oh yeah, there's no reason to be nervous, Angel thought, unless you were supposedly dead, and were now making public appearances in the same places you had attempted to destroy a few years earlier.

Mentally cursing herself for listening to her heart and not her head, Angel waited solemly in the elevator to face what she had determined was fate trying to rip her into pieces- again. Twenty, twenty-one, twenty-two... Wow, this was taking forever. She sighed, as the elevator finally made it to the twenty-seventh floor.

When she got off the elevator, she was graced by the presence of another secretary, a man this time. She assumed that this was Marc. He smiled at her, motioning to one of the seats before him, and adjacent to the B.B.A. founder's office. The man was currently occupied with the person he was talking to on the headset attached to his ear. Angel closed her eyes, applying a breathing technique she had been taught to keep herself calm.

The door to the chairman's office opened silently, hinges oiled to perfection. Angel's head rose as she glanced at the shadow on the floor of the short and chubbly man that ran the B.B.A. He looked at her through his glasses, but apparently didn't draw the conclusion that he had met the young woman before.

"Come on in," He said, holding the door for her as she entered. Her eyes scanned the room upon entry, noting the highly professional atmosphere. The wall was a grey-white color, while the desk was a metallic color, and the furniture- all patent leather, black in color, and slightly comfortable. White walls slightly bothered her.

Mr. Dickenson took a seat at his desk, looking at her. His eyes did a slow analysis of her lean form. She slightly squirmed, taking on a feeling of being 'under the microscope.' He seemed alright with her appearance. Angel clutched the appropriate applications in her hand, almost afraid to relinquish them. However, he didn't ask for them. Not just yet.

The chairman looked at her with a grandfatherly look upon his aging features. "It's nice to see a young woman such as yourself entering. There haven't been too many people like yourself lately." He stopped, thinking for a moment. "How long have you been blading?"

She smiled. "Since I was able to walk," She answered, her white teeth accentuating dark lips.

Laughter followed from the man behind the desk. "I would figure as much. You're... how old?"

"Twenty-three." She met his eyes, noting that his flickered in a bit of bewilderment. She seemed to be so shy a moment ago, and was now exhibiting some strange signs of quickly gained confidence.

He nodded, his grandfatherly attributes reappearing. "Do you have any kind of restraints with your hearing or vision?"

She shook her head. "Nope, vision's like a hawk, my hearing's even better."

There was another pause, not akward, at least from Mr. Dickenson's point of view. This young woman was quite enchanting. He tapped his pen into his other hand, nodding, before continuing. "Anything else I should know about before you give me your application?"

She nodded, slowly at first, but steadily increased the tempo of this motion. She crossed her left leg over her right and looked down at the black heels that were on her feet. "Do you have any restrictions on anyone in remission?"

"As in," he began carefully, "from cancer?" She nodded, and he thought carefully. "Of what variety would this be?" He then closed his eyes, trying hard to consider how to approach the situation. "Also, the time will be of great importance as well..."

Angel took a moment to let him think. "I've been in remission for four and a half years. This is the second time I've been in remission, and this time was a lot less stressful than the first. And as far as the type, I've gone through chemo for Leukemia."

He sighed. "Miss-"

"There have been reports," She said defiantly. "You have to let me compete, the doctors at the Leukemia Research Institute of Belgium have said that the radiation from the beyblades I was exposed to the second time I was diagnosed saved me from dying, even when my predicted life expectancy had expired. I _need_ to compete-"

If she had predicted this from the start, she would've kept walking. The chairman's eyes met hers, and she instantly silenced herself, inwardly cursing herself for the interruption and outburst. Mr. Dickenson, however, was slightly surprised by the outburst. The woman obviously wanted to be here; to compete.

"Have I met you before?" He asked her, extending his hands for the paperwork. She smiled and gave them up, watching his eyes as they gave her one more gaze.

She nodded, catching his attention, as he had almost looked down. "You didn't like me much then."

"Nonsense," He responded, "I am a busy man. There are very few people I dislike." Angel tried to resist the urge to roll her eyes. She eventually restrained them, and instead blinked, thinking about how to get her point across.

"My name is Angel," She said quietly. "The last time you saw me, I was trying to take over your organization."

The clipboard hit the carpeted floor with a light thud. He stared at the young woman, cursing himself for not being able to see it. "Angel Asmerov," he whispered to himself incredulously.

"Angelique," she said gently. "My first name is Angelique. Angel just comes with the reputation I've put together. No one calls me that though."

He looked up at her, noting her power-house green eyes intently gazing out the window, as if waiting for him to collect his thoughts. "Why haven't you reached out to us before? I mean, you have no idea how many think you are dead!" Her head tilted toward him, her intent eyes landing on him, holding his gaze for a second before she stood up and trekked to the window.

"Why haven't I?" She paused, leting a gently laugh rest on her lips. "It is quite obvious that I was in bad shape the last time I saw them. Kai was more than capable to lead them, and it would seem that I was correct in this assumption."

The chairman leaned back, noting the same traits that he had seen in Angel years prior. She was far from finished.

She turned back to look at him, at which point her necklace caught the light. It wasn't the dog tags he had remembered seeing. "I understand that there are a lot of people who think I am dead, and that was always the way. I have six more months to go before I'm officially done. Please, I need this."

The chairman looked at her, surprised. "You're asking me?"

"I'll beg if I have to," she said gently. "I haven't had a cancerous cell in me for-" She thought about it for a moment, "Four years, six months, and two days." She knocked on the edge of the coffee table next to her chair gently. "Just for luck," she whispered.

"You'll need more than luck if you're going to beyblade for the B.B.A."

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Flash! Snap! The lenses of the cameras surrounding her focused, clicked, and refocused quickly. She felt the hands of two bodyguards on her shoulders, pushing her through the crowd and knocking the offending gentlemen out of the way. She smiled sassily at the paparazzi that had accumulated in Rome.

Quite honestly, it was surprising that she had yet to run into Enrique. She grabbed ducked as she entered the limo, giving the photographers a clear shot at her lean body, dark wash designer jeans, and high heeled black sandals.

"Miss Asmerov, Miss Asmerov..." Their questions were wisked away by the dull roar of the many fans. She felt Mr. Dickenson's arm around her, and she smiled at him, briskly returning the hug.

She looked through the tinted windows at the fans, all of whom had banners, or were jumping up and down excitedly, as if their life mission had been completed by seeing her. She smiled again at them, through the windows, though they couldn't see her.

"Well now, Angelique," Mr. Dickenson said, using her full name. "You've put together quite a following in a short period of time. I'm surprised that none of your old comrades have put together the pieces."

She laughed. "I'd hope that they won't put it together, as mean as it sounds. Not until I'm done with the five years. Then I'll announce all the crap I've put behind me, if that will please you."

He nodded, watching her stare at the city skyline with inate interest. "Do you know where we are going next?"

She shook her head. "Where?"

"New York. You'll love it. If this is interesting to you, you'll adore the skyline. If you win there, you go to Miami's tournament, and then-"

"That'll put me into the South American Open. The World Championships."

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own beyblade. Woo hoo.

Author(ess)'s Notes: Thanks to my reviewers who rock. I'll try to update more frequently, since I need to finish what I've started before I begin much more. Thanks for everything guys, and keep those reviews coming!

Against All Odds- Chapter Two

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It was a brisk morning. Hilary Tachibana stepped into the kitchen quietly, only to find the stoic captain of their team, Kai Hiwatari, waiting silently for the coffee machine to finish its brew. She tapped him lightly on the shoulder as she passed, grabbing a coffee cup- one of few unchipped ones thanks to the ever so dainty Tyson, and waited on the opposite side of the machine.

When the metallic red machine finished gurgling, the elder of the two poured a cup of coffee for the younger and then one for himself. She smiled as thanks, not bothering with words. The language of Kai did not include many words, and phrases were even less common, but his eyes and his actions spoke volumes about himself. Hilary also prided herself in learning his vocabulary, since she, in her infinite wisdom about her team mates, had calmed down enough to tolerate his complex to the point where she nearly figured him out. It wasn't that hard though, she supposed, as she had seen the captain's heart upon his sleeve when she had returned to Japan from hiding out with Mr. Dickenson.

"Run?" She asked, as he stood up, leaving his half-finished black coffee on the table. Receiving a barely audible 'hn,' she followed him, already dressed for the occasion in yellow and white running shorts and a black shirt. He threw her shoes to her, listening carefully to hear the thump they would make should she drop one.

Within seconds, they had found the crisp morning air rushing past them on their daily run through the streets of Bakuten. It was always this way, though Tyson was her true love, Kai was still like her brother, and still the only one who she could tolerate. He read people like a book and just knew when to confront a person, or when to leave them be. He had used himself, as an example, to show her how to do the same.

They passed their usual training spot, the beach. The whitest of sand met the coolest of blue water there. However, since it was still barely dawn, the rising sun hit the water that was warmer than the air. Hilary kicked off her shoes as Kai sped down the steps leading to their training site, sprinting past him into the warm water. It soaked her ankles but she took off, kicking beads of water from the small, incoming waves behind her.

For this reason, Kai, who was the strongest distance runner, took the opportunity to sprint up to her and manage her stride, slowing down as she slowly began to pace herself once more. He smirked as she stopped at the end of the beach, just before the bridge that harbored so many memories. It was the place he had first met Tyson, and the place where he hid when things became too tough for him to handle.

Of course, too many people knew this location's worth, and it was no longer a place of refuge. Instead, when he wished to be found, he would come here. Should someone come looking and he was not there, they would have to travel throughout the city, trying to find the elusive captain. However, he was a master at hiding, and it would end up that he would reveal himself should the time seem fitting.

A few meters behind him, Hilary was doubled over, partially catching her breath, and partially replacing her trainers on her feet. Kai turned, jogging back to her, though he knew their run was over. She smiled at him, only to receive a nod and a cheeky smile.

"Too much for you still?" he asked, his cocky attitude shining like the sun rising behind him.

She nodded. "Of course," she said, smiling. "I am nowhere near as good as you, almighty one."

They turned around, retracing their steps in silence, stopping once or twice to admire the scraps of beyblades left from their previous battles and training, all of which were left in the sand. Although many pieces of blades were present, none of them came from the Russian captain. Many were left by his sister, and others, many others were a result of her beyblade's attack strength.

By the time they returned, Mina, Tala, and Ray were all awake, sitting at the island in the kitchen, slurping coffee, or in Ray's case, tea. The television next to the microwave was on, displaying, as usual, a beyblading report.

_"We come to you live from Rome, Italy to bring you this-_"

"Is this new or old?" Ray asked, being the farthest away from the small screen to see the date posted in the corner.

Mina turned away from Tala and the screen to look at the Chinese boy. "It says its from last Tuesday." Ray nodded and the group's attention turned again to the screen.

"_The newest sensation in Italy is none other than a female blader, much to the once idolized Enrique's shock. When we interviewed him moments ago, he said that 'this showstopper has no talent compared to a real blader with heart.'"_ The shot changed from the reporter to that of a beyblade battle, involving spectacular lights and speed to rival that of the practice battles that happened at the beach on a daily basis. "_We confronted this new sensation, a young woman named Angelique."_

The screen changed to that of a press conference, in which a young woman, close to the age of the bladers watching the report, faced a slew of questioning reporters. _"Miss Angelique,"_ One of them began, "_How do you take Enrique's statement? He is, afterall, the Italian champion._"

The young woman, a pretty thing with black styled hair in light waves and layers, looked around, before her lips curved into a smile that contended that of a cocky Tala. "_Well,_" She began, "_I'm not too upset about it. He may be the champion, but the bigger they become, the harder they fall. His ego will be his downfall._"

Her accent was of perfect English, but as per their country, her voice was blotted out by a Japanese woman, translating her words. Nevertheless, it did not mask this "Angelique's" attitude about the entire thing. Kai shut the television off following this.

"Did you see that?" Tala asked. "That beyblading was nothing more than some flashy lights. I think Enrique might actually be right for a change."

"Imagine that," Mina said, giving her boyfriend a chaste kiss as she passed by to look out the window, "You, agreeing with Enrique? Don't tell anyone, the media might have a field day."

"Seems like they already have," Kai said distastefully. "Some showstopper, she probably uses her body to get support."

"Well, Kai," Tyson said, from the doorway, still clad in pyjamas, "If you were a normal hormonal man, you would hope to God she used her body. However, you're not, and the world will forever be perplexed by the mystery that is you."

"_Perplexed_?" Ray asked, looking at the champion. "Have you been reading the dictionary again?"

Tyson grinned. "Nope, I heard Kenny say it the other day." The rest of the group laughed, save Kai. "Dude, so she's got an attitude. If she makes it to the championships, which I doubt, she'll get destroyed. The big leagues don't care so much about bodies. However, since we aren't competing, I don't see any harm in looking. She's easy on the-"

"Tyson?" Hilary asked, looking at him and blinking ever so sweetly. "What were you about to say?"

"You're easy on the eyes, Hil?" He asked, gulping rather audibly. The rest of the group burst out laughing at his antics.

Kai gave his best friend a smirk. "Perhaps you're too hormonal, Tyson. Either way, I don't like her."

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Mr. Dickenson paced silently. What in the world was he going to tell her? She was working so hard to be the best blader in the world that he didn't have the heart to tell her what her friends thought of her. He looked down at the plush carpeting, noting the lighter color where he had been pacing.

Behind him a single knock was placed on the door before the young woman- whom he had called for- walked casually into the room, her heels muffled by the carpeting. "Mr. D, you sent for me," She stated, taking a seat in a leather chair.

He nodded, delibierating for a moment. There were other things he could tell her. He looked into her eyes for a split second and reconsidered. She had been lied to so much in her life, she probably didn't deserve that.

"We had a problem," He began, sighing lightly. "You have tried so very hard, and I commend you on your efforts, but-"

Angel's eyes hardened. "Do _not_ tell me I can't compete anymore," she growled. He was surprised by her anger but shook his head gently. She immediately calmed down, thinking for a moment. "What have they told you?" she suddenly asked. "Tell me the truth."

The B.B.A.'s president smiled sadly at him. "They don't like your 'concept,'" He said, checking her reaction. She nodded. "They think that you're flashy and lack the real talent."

The girl pulled out her beyblade and smiled the sassiest smile he'd ever seen. "Well, that's because I'm holding back. If you want to see true power, I can show it to you, but you might not have a blading complex afterwards."

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Angelique, I don't want anyone to get hurt by your words, much less your beyblade." They both laughed. "Seriously, though, does it bother you?"

She shook her head once. "A little, but not enough to stop. Enrique thought the same thing and I didn't see him once at my battles. He thinks that I owe him a formal apology." She rolled her eyes. "The runt wouldn't know anything about blading if I hadn't shown him how to fight when he joined The Rising. Can't I write that off or something?"

The president smiled sadly. "I know how much your friends mean to you, as does your five years. Do you want to continue this, and wait until the South American Open?"

"I want to win the South American Open. I have dreams beyond them, you know. If I can enter this tournament, and win, and be the World Champion, who's to say that I can't be myself." She stood up. "And now, I believe I have some promotional bullshit to take care of." She turned and stalked to the door. She leaned her arm up against it then turned around. "When I get to the Championships, there will be a lot more ass-kicking, Angel style. Taidra is keeping cool for now, but trust me, when she gets the idea to come out during a battle, well, who the hell am I to stop her?"

With that, and some formal goodbyes, she left the chairman standing behind the chair of his desk, blinking in astonishment. That girl was something else. So much of her hadn't changed, but so much of her seemed to become looser. No one would hold her back, he supposed, and that was why he held her as the number one pick to win the championships.

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When she stepped into her current hotel room, one that was probably the most expensive ones New York City could offer, she quickly stripped herself of her shirt, then the rest of her ensemble, jumping quickly into the shower. She let the warm water hit her for the longest time, letting the whirls and swirls of memory sweep her away. She pictured her friends vividly as she picked out the white cherry blossom shampoo from the bottles on top of the shower stall. She closed her eyes as the lather foamed from her long hair to her back and beyond her curves.

_"They don't like your '_concept_.'"_

She honestly didn't know what to think. Concept- what concept? She didn't need to use her bit beast, so why should she? What was the point of over-exerting herself for a bunch of kids who really didn't have that much talent? When she got to the championships, she would be sure to show them what she could do. Until then, well, she really didn't need to, now did she?

From the depths of her mind, she registered the beginnings of depressions trying to worm their way in. She thought long and hard. She truly needed a friend that knew her. That knew who she was and what she was doing. She had spent the past five years fighting alone, holding on to what were merely fragments of who she was and what her past life consisted of.

Who could she call?

She wouldn't break the news to anyone who had criticised her, because that would ruin their surprise. She continued on, letting the hot water massage her back, which had knotted up considerably, due to training and other actions. The stress didn't help either.

As she finished wrinsing the soapy lather off her toned body, she wrapped her mind around the person.

"Riku!"

Jumping out of the shower at the fastest speed she could muster without tripping, she grabbed a towel, wrapped it around herself and headed out to her bedroom. At the bottom of her suitcase, which still held a laptop, beyblade parts and a few books, was a small phone book, that held the numbers of people she couldn't call. Riku's cell phone could have changed, but this line was not that of his cell phone. This was a different phone line.

Two rings was all it took.

"Hello?" A voice said, in an accent that could only be Australian. "Can I help you?"

Angel sighed. "I hope so, Mrs. Ikaiono. Is Riku home?"

The woman cleared her throat. "May I ask who this is?"

The woman hummed. "My name is Angel Asmerov. I really need to talk to him."

A gasp was heard on the other end. "RIKU! GET DOWN HERE! TELEPHONE FOR YOU!"

There was a bit of banging, clanging, and other various thuds. Following this, was the movement of the phone and some soothing words by Riku's mother, who had answered the phone. "What?" Riku asked, obviously angered by the disturbance. "What do you want?"

Angel sighed again, audibly. "God Riku," She said, in a voice that showed a bit of annoyance, "I didn't know that talking to an old friend was so freakin' excruciating for you."

Riku seemed uninterested. "Who the hell are you?"

"A blader called Angelique who's really lonely and needs a friend." Silence followed. "Fine, let's see, I forgot that you're a guy, so I guess I'll have to be direct." She switched over to Russian and spoke clearly. "The light will always conquer the dark."

Riku gasped and remained silent. He seemed to take forever in speaking again. "A-Angel?"

"Hey sweetheart, betcha didn't expect this one."

He laughed, almost ready to hang up the phone. Was this too good to be true? "Where the hell are you?"

"In an oversized hotel room in New York, New York, and in need of some company. You in Melbourne?" She swirled a strand of wet black hair and looked at herself in the mirror, noting the tips of her scars that she had done well in concealing recently.

He cleared his throat. "Nope, we're in Boston, we moved three years ago so my little brother could go to Harvard."

"Oh, how's he doing?"

"Great, but I think I got him topped right about now. I'll hop on a plane first thing in the morning."

"I'll wire you the money for a ticket, if you want." She paused. "It'll come straight from a B.B.A. account though."

Riku gasped. "You blade for the B.B.A.? I've been watching the battles that have been going on. How come I haven't seen you."

"Well," She said, brushing through her hair, leaving the phone on the dresser next to the mirror, the speakerphone working wonders, "I've been called mostly Angelique, and the only people mentioning my last name are the paparazzi. Oh, and haven't you heard how my lovely minions have been talking about me?"

"Wonderful," He said quietly. "Why haven't you told them? They'd die if they knew they'd talked ill of someone they thought was dead."

She chuckled knowingly. "Riku, my friend, have we forgotten in nearly six years how I play the game? You should've gone with Kai like the rest of them, at least you would've gotten some action."

"How did you know I was alive anyway? Everyone else figured I just wasted away or died in the fight and was nothing but ash from the fire."

"The same way I knew I'd make it out alive." She looked at the reflection in the mirror. "I trained you to fight against all odds, even ones that seemed hopeless. You're doing what now?"

"I was running a beyblading physillity, teaching under-privledged city kids how to beyblade," He said sheepishly. "And you?"

"Training to win the world championships without having to go through chemo again," she said, in a voice that sounded comical. "At least you're doing something for the good of others."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, I thought you told people no chemo. That's what Mr. Dickenson said on the news that day you..., to explain why we all figured you were dead." He sighed, old anger flaring up. Apparently she was clueless. How could she not understand what she did to all of them? "So you just disappeared? There was a bullet in the wall and a hell of a lot of blood and you just disappeared? What the hell? Don't you know what you did to us? We all tried to pick up the pieces of our lives and it would've been a lot easier if you would have let us help you!"

She hummed thoughtfully, closing her eyes. "I fought for one straight year, after the doctors spent a month trying to get me stable enough to even think of chemo. It's been six years since I've seen all of you. I have four months to go, and I wouldn't have called you if I didn't need a friend. It's hard to meet people when you're hiding the fact that you were formerly a most-wanted criminal to the B.B.A., who suddenly became a hero. It's difficult for me to go out there, in the midst of these people who I love and tell them the truth."

"What is that truth, Angel? You haven't been around to tell us what happened with Boris!"

"You won't know what happened with Boris until the rest of them know. That secret is between Dickenson and me. I didn't stick around because no one wanted to see what I had become. I weighed eighty-three pounds, I couldn't even walk for six months, I had to have an IV for two of those months, be hooked up to a breathing machine, and I couldn't beyblade for nearly two years. That's why no one recognized the style. I changed everything from our death-blading style to one that suited competitions. You'll see that back soon, I promise."

"Not as soon as you think, Angel." He sighed, and Angel sensed the upcoming lie. "Now that I think about it, I don't think I can come to New York. The physillity is crazy and since I own, it, I can't leave it for some escapade that you've designed, hoping that you won't disappear again. I won't go blindly, Ang. Hope you understand that."

She sighed. "Alright, Riku." She looked at her reflection in the mirror. "I probably should have given you a warning first, but alright. Just don't tell any of the Rising, okay?"

"I don't talk to them, remember? That isn't my life anymore."

Her eyes widened in shock and her blood boiled. "It will _always_ be a part of you like I am a part of you. You will always be a member of The Rising, sealed by the blood you have shed for the good of others. I hope someday you'll understand why it had to be this way." She hung up the phone and pulled her towel clad body into pyjamas, choosing the softest of pillows to cry into.

If there was one thing she had learned, it was that crying always helped ease the pain. She had cried so many times in her chemotherapy, but she had yet to understand why she never did the first time. Memories of the Abbey flashed into her mind. That was probably it. She was a master at hiding her emotions, and now, she could do it at certain times, but other times, she didn't want to. The world would have to see her, eventually. She couldn't hide forever.

She _wouldn't_. She had become stronger than that.

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Please review, and I love you all for reading!

Until next time! Distant Storm


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